


Life in a Box

by bertee



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, M/M, Prison, Revolution, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:18:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/bertee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prison-guard!Jensen and political-prisoner!JDM find out their situations aren't as different as they thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life in a Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pigeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeon/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "power cut".

The first thing they told him was that Morgan was dangerous.

They brought him down just before sunset, less than an hour after Jensen's shift had started, with one of the Master's Prefects leading the prisoner and the armed Soldiers down to the most secure cells. They said nothing at first, just pushed the chained and hooded man into the cell and conducted the usual search for weapons or items that could be made into weapons. As expected they found nothing in the cell -- Jensen had long since given up on hoping that they would trust him to have done his job -- but he watched with interest when one of the Soldiers pulled a dagger out of the prisoner's waistband.

It was thin and familiar, marked with the red stripes of the Master, and Jensen hovered by the door as a burly, dark-haired Soldier kicked the prisoner in the gut, dropping him to his knees.

"Fucker," he spat, anger masking embarrassment. "Try to take my weapon again and I'll break your fuckin' fingers."

Even with the hood over his head, Jensen heard the man on the floor laugh. "Try? There wasn't any trying to it, son. Just taking."

"You cocky motherf-"

"Enough." The Prefect's voice was ice-firm as he ordered, "Do your job, Soldier, and let the Warden do his."

The dark-haired Soldier glanced over in Jensen's direction and Jensen didn't miss the sneer that tugged at the corner of his lips as he took in the black and red of the Warden's uniform he wore. Arguing was for children and traitors, however, and the Soldier turned obediently back to the task at hand as he helped to maneuver the prisoner into position on the chair in the center of the cell, still leaving him hooded and chained.

On the Prefect's nod, Jensen turned his key in the switch and watched the prisoner start in surprise as thick metal bands clunked across him, pinning his wrists, forearms, ankles, and chest to the heavy chair. The Soldier leaned in quickly to slip the collar around his neck and padlocked it in place, ensuring he would be anchored to the chair even when the metal bands were removed. 

Trapped, the prisoner tugged against the restraints, his hands curling into fists as he tested the range of motion, but he settled down when the chair held him fast, relaxing back into the seat and speaking in a low drawl, "Gotta say, the accommodation could do with some improvement, gentlemen."

The dark-haired Soldier punched him across the face before Jensen could even register what had happened. 

The prisoner's head snapped to the side and Jensen heard him chuckle as he caught his breath. "Aww, did I hurt your feelings, Florence?"

Jensen raised his eyebrows at the defiance and the Soldier raised his fist.

"Enough!" the Prefect ordered again, louder. "Leave him."

The Soldier lowered his hand and Jensen stepped aside to let the men troop out of the cell. The Prefect was last and Jensen found himself staring into the man's blue eyes as he said, "His name's Morgan. He's dangerous, ruthless, and violent, and it's taken weeks to capture him. The Master needs you to do your job and keep him contained at all times." His eyes cut over to the cell and then back to Jensen as he said simply, "If he escapes, you'll be held responsible and executed."

Ignoring the twist of fear in his gut, Jensen nodded. This wasn't the first time his orders had been accompanied by that threat and he knew it wouldn't be the last. "Understood, Sir."

The Prefect's brow smoothed out into a mask of controlled confidence. "Continue, Warden."

He strode past him and led the Soldiers out with the same thumping rattle of feet and weapons, and Jensen braced himself to enter the cell. His tranq stick rested at his waist and he tried to calm the thud-thud-thud of his heart as he crouched down to unlock the chains from the prisoner's ankles. Morgan jumped at the touch, kicking out quickly to hide his surprise, but he had nowhere to go and Jensen removed the chains around his wrists too with the same quick efficiency.

He half-expected Morgan to speak, to offer another cocky retort about the confinement or to tell him that he was going to escape whether Jensen liked it or not, and so he was surprised when Morgan stayed silent as he worked. He hooked the chains onto his belt out of the way so they couldn't be used against him -- he still carried the scars from the last time he'd made that mistake -- then he reached up to lift the hood off Morgan's head.

It came off slowly, tugged out from under the band around his throat, revealing a short, gray-black beard, tanned skin, handsome features, and dark eyes that locked onto Jensen and didn't let go. 

At first sight, Morgan looked like any other man in the city rather than a hardened criminal who required constant surveillance, but Jensen didn't underestimate the dark glint in Morgan's eyes as his gaze traveled up and down Jensen's body before settling back on his face. His lips curved up in a smile that was more amused than threatening, and the twist of fear in Jensen's stomach wound itself into a new emotion under the intensity of his stare.

The first thing Morgan told him was that he looked good in red.

**+++**

Jensen liked to think he'd developed a thick skin when it came to dealing with prisoners.

Day after day, he had come to work while Kanno had screamed himself hoarse in the cell that Morgan occupied now. He'd kept his composure during the Warren brothers' residency, when they'd spent hours talking to each other in separate cells about all the ways they wanted to fuck him and about how good he'd look when he was taking both of their dicks at once. He'd stayed there on watch when Matthews was telling him exactly what he'd done to the eleven children he'd kidnapped and butchered, and he hadn't strayed from his post even when Matthews changed the subject to exactly what he wanted to do to Jensen. 

Hell, once he'd healed up, he had still returned to work after the incident with Carrold, ready to do his duty just like the Master dictated.

However, the thickness of his skin wasn't much help when Morgan seemed to slip right in underneath it without a second thought.

Morgan spoke to him like they were equals, like they were friends who talked freely to each other rather than a Warden and his charge. There were none of the usual threats, taunts, or jibes aimed in his direction and while Carrold's calmness had just been terrifying, there was an easy, open confidence to the way Morgan handled himself, so much so that Jensen found himself looking forward to the one-sided conversations as he delivered Morgan his evening meal.

That night's delivery went off without a hitch: Morgan was held back by the collar while Jensen carried the food in and he was released against as soon as the door was closed behind him, leaving him able to move around the cell as much as the generous reach of the chain would let him. 

Satisfied that Morgan was fed and secure, Jensen sat down on the stool in the corner of the cell-block and settled in to listen to the story that accompanied the meal today.

However, his expectation quickly switched to uncertainty when Morgan called from his cell, "Hey, Warden, I got a question for you."

Jensen didn't move from his seat but curled his hand around his tranq stick as he asked, "What's the problem?"

"This food, man," Morgan said, managing to sound unthreatening even as he complained about food that was no better than Jensen's own. "I'm not saying I'm not grateful for the three squares a day and I know I can't blame you for the crap your Master feeds his subjects, but can you at least give me a clue about what I'm eating here?" 

Jensen heard him tap his fingers against the cardboard plate as he said, "I mean, if it's duck, I can tell you all about the time my guys rigged a game-shooting contest to steal some shipments of your Master's grain; if it's tuna, I can tell you about this lake way up in the western mountains filled with more kinds of fish than you've ever seen; and if it's chicken, I can tell you about this farmboy I knew back when I was your age." 

Jensen heard the smile in Morgan's voice as he teased, "Of course, if I don't have a goddamn clue what this is, I'm just gonna have to start telling you about elves and leprechauns and other made-up shit."

"I don't need you telling me about anything," Jensen said, hoping it would come across as believable, "but the meat tonight is pork."

Morgan chuckled inside his cell as he came to his decision. "Guess I'll be telling you about that time I went pig-rustling then. I gotta say, pigs are much harder to rustle than cattle. You'll grab hold of one to lift it into the wagon -- y'know, to take it to a better farm which isn't owned by your Master -- and it'll be squealing and kicking and wriggling away like its little life depends on it."

There was a snort from the cell opposite Jensen and Morgan stopped talking when the prisoner inside muttered, "Bet the Warden here knows a thing or two about that."

Jensen tensed up, not wanting the prisoner - _Sullivan, gang member, arrested for larceny_ \- to say anything else but also not wanting to leave that hanging out there. 

He stayed by the wall, out of sight of Morgan's cell, as Sullivan got to his feet and peered through the window of the heavy cell door, coming as close to it as the collar and chain would let him. "What, don't you remember, Warden? I got friends who heard you screaming like a stuck pig the last time they were in here."

Jensen swallowed and shook his head. "Hate to tell you this but your friends are full of shit, Sullivan."

Sullivan laughed, his pale eyes staying fixed on Jensen through the narrow window. "You're a bad liar, kid. They said he'd gotten hold of the prettiest Warden in the whole damn prison but I thought they were just bullshitting." His gaze slithered down Jensen's body. "Turns out they were right." He whistled. "Dude was a lucky guy."

"Hey!" 

Jensen jumped, instantly reddening in embarrassment at how much Morgan's shout startled him, but he watched from his position by the wall as Morgan asked Sullivan, "Are you really that much of a dumb fuck that you wanna get on the wrong side of the guy who decides how much food you get or whether you spend your whole day locked to a chair? Really?"

He doubted Morgan and Sullivan could even see each other but he stayed out of the way as Sullivan called back, "I ain't scared of a little bitch like him."

"Then you're a fuckin' moron," Morgan said easily. "But hey, if the Warden here wants to lock you down and leave you there til you piss yourself, it's no skin off my nose. As long as you don't stink bad enough for me to smell it, I'm good."

Sullivan hesitated, glancing between Jensen and the door of Morgan's cell, and Morgan continued, "Y'know, if you apologize to him now, he might even let you have some food tomorrow. He seems like a pretty decent guy to me." 

When Sullivan didn't say anything, Morgan pushed, "I'm waiting..."

"Sorry," Sullivan ground out, eyes flicking back over to Jensen as his lips narrowed into a thin line. 

Jensen was pretty sure he wanted to make more cracks about what had happened with Carrold but the threat of no food was evidently enough to make him back off into his cell without another word.

Breathing out in quiet relief, Jensen turned to look into Morgan's cell. It felt strange to have a prisoner on his side for once and he almost expected Morgan to demand something in return, but he tried to keep from smiling when Morgan winked at him, more cheerful than lecherous, and mouthed silently, "You're welcome."

He settled back in the chair with his legs slung over the armrest and with the unidentifiable food in his lap, and Jensen watched in silent amusement as he took a big bite and began again, "So, I was rustling these pigs..."

**+++**

"Y'know, you still haven't told me your name."

Setting Morgan's plate of food on the floor, Jensen locked the door and released him from the chair before looking through the bars with a smile. "Because you don't need to know it."

"Oh, I do," Morgan protested, sitting on the floor with his back against the chair. "How else am I supposed to know what to call you?"

"'Warden' works just fine," Jensen pointed out but Morgan shrugged.

"Yeah, but I call the day-shift guys 'Warden' too. You should be something different."

"Why don't you call them something different?"

Morgan grinned. "Because you're my favorite."

Raising his eyebrows at the admission, Jensen said firmly, "Flattery won't get you anywhere."

"How about my rugged good looks?" Morgan deadpanned before saying, "Anyway, it's not flattery. I'm just stating facts here. You have green eyes, you look good in red, and you're my favorite."

Jensen eyed him suspiciously and Morgan relaxed back against the legs of the chair with a sigh. "I get it, y'know? I get the whole no-name thing. You're not the only one who's spent some time working for the Master."

Jensen tried to hide his surprise. They didn't talk about the rebels, not if they wanted to keep their freedom, but Jensen had assumed they were all outsiders, members of the fringes of society, not people who'd once been part of the system they were now fighting against. "Oh."

Morgan grinned at him. "They don't tell you those parts, do they? I bet as far as your Master's concerned, we're all just part of the Resistance boogeyman." He scooped up a forkful of food and asked casually, "You wanna hear a story?"

Jensen's answer had never mattered in the past but he shrugged and waited for Morgan to continue.

"Once upon a time, there was a handsome young shepherd," Morgan began, his voice light and playful. "Okay, so he wasn't really that handsome. He was kind of gangly, with a short-temper and a bad haircut. Anyway, the shepherd was just a kid when a new ruler came to power in his homeland. He was a cruel man, crueler than the last king and much crueler than anyone in the kingdom deserved, but people were too scared to stand up to him."

Recognizing a treasonable description of the Master when he heard one, Jensen made a half-hearted protest. "You can't talk like that. It's forbidden."

"It's just a story," Morgan said innocently. "You're drawing your own conclusions there, sweetheart."

Jensen bit his lip, partly to stop himself scowling at being called 'sweetheart' and partly to stop himself smiling at Morgan. 

"So the new ruler puts everyone into the jobs he wants them to do, and after spending his whole life looking after animals, the shepherd finds out that there are no more farm jobs going and that he's going to be forced to collect taxes from the farms instead." He paused for another forkful of food. "It goes well for the first few weeks. The taxes are reasonable and everyone can afford to pay but as the months go on, the taxes go up."

Jensen shifted closer to the window, waiting to hear the rest.

"One day, the ex-shepherd is told to collect from a family. They're good, honest people, just a guy, his wife and their three little kids. They're the kind of people who've never done anything wrong, who would never even consider disobeying the law, and the new ruler orders the ex-shepherd to take almost everything they own in taxes and leave the kids to starve."

It wasn't an unfamiliar tale and Jensen swallowed. He wondered where his own parents were now and hoped his little sister hadn't been taken away on the Master's orders like he and his older brother had. "Did you-" He stopped and corrected, "Did the shepherd do it? Did he take the taxes?"

Morgan shook his head. "Nope. He quit the job and left the whole system. He thought maybe that way he could help families like that one instead of destroying them."

Morgan looked up at him and Jensen ran the risk of holding his gaze. "Must be nice," he said tightly, "to be able to make a choice like that."

Morgan smiled. "There's always a choice, Warden. It just might not be an easy one."

Curiosity bubbled up and Jensen couldn't stop himself asking, "Was it worth it?" 

Seeing Morgan's arched eyebrow, he rephrased, "Was it worth giving up your place in the system? Foraging for food, living in the forests, stealing to get by -- was one family worth all that?"

"Yes."

Morgan didn't falter in his answer and Jensen looked down, trying to ignore his guilt at just accepting his place without complaint. "What about now?" he asked again. "You're stuck here because you rebelled. The Master could order your execution any day now. Was that really worth one tax collection?"

He glanced up to see that Morgan was staring straight at him as he said seriously, "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Jensen jumped at the sudden movement when Morgan broke away from his gaze and pushed himself to his feet. He adjusted the collar around his neck, making sure it didn't pull on the thin chain as he walked close to the door and said, "So that's me." He was too far away to shake Jensen's hand but he gave a little wave as he introduced himself, "The name's Jeff, by the way."

Jensen hesitated. His story was way less interesting, revolving around obedience and loyalty rather than rebellion and bravery, and as much as he enjoyed Morgan's company, he wasn't sure he wanted a prisoner knowing that much about him. He should've walked away -- he wasn't obligated to speak to the prisoners, let alone tell them his life story -- but words came spilling out before he could stop himself.

"Jensen," he said abruptly. "I- My name's Jensen." 

He gave an awkward, half-hearted wave in response and was met by a broad, sincere smile from Jeff, who sounded like he actually meant it when he said, "Pleasure to meet you, Jensen."

****

+++

In hindsight, Jensen should've picked up on the signs.

His interactions with Jeff had gone well for the past couple of weeks. There had been no escape attempts or protests; Jeff had been good enough not to say his name loud enough for the other prisoners to hear; and Jeff's stories during mealtimes had been the highlight of Jensen's night for months now. He was pretty sure Jeff enjoyed the limited conversation too, given how little else there was to do down in the secure cells, and so when Jeff refused his evening meal, Jensen should've known something was wrong.

Jeff offered him a smile and a shrug when Jensen came to the door with his plate of food. "You know what, I think I'm good tonight."

Jensen frowned. Prisoners never turned down food. "You don't want it?"

"Nah." Jeff patted his stomach. "I think something at lunch disagreed with me."

The day's lunch, Jensen recalled, had been basic chicken which he knew Jeff had eaten plenty of times in the past without any ill effects. Still, it did happen.

"You sure?" he asked again. "You can always take it now and eat it later?"

He looked up from the food in time to catch Jeff looking up at the tiny window in the far corner of his cell before he turned quickly back to face Jensen, smile still in place. "I think I'm good, thanks."

Confused but not wanting Jeff to go without food, Jensen made up his own mind. "I can just leave it inside," he said, moving over to turn the crank which caused Jeff's collar to be pulled back against the chair. "That way it's there if you want it. It won't take a second."

"Jensen," Jeff said, a little more urgently. "I'm fine, seriously. Just stay out there and eat your own food. You've gotta be hungry by now."

Jensen turned the crank, watching carefully to make sure Jeff was sitting back down so the movement of the collar didn't choke him. Hefting the dish into one hand, he unlocked the door with the other and stepped inside as Jeff shifted on his seat.

"Here you go," he said, setting the plate down by the door. There was a scuffmark on the wall and Jensen made a mental note to clean it up when he got the chance. "It's just stew tonight so hopefully it'll go down easy if you get hungry."

He gave Jeff a small smile but it faded when he saw that Jeff was distracted by something up near the window. It was too small for anyone to get in or out so Jensen peered up there, squinting against the evening sunlight as he tried to work out what was going on. "Hey, is everything okay?"

Jeff seemed calmer when he looked back at him. Convinced that Jeff's prior unsettled behavior was just his imagination, Jensen smiled at him again before he left. "Hope you feel better soon."

"Jensen." Jeff sounded almost regretful and Jensen paused with his hand on the door to catch his murmur, "I'm sorry."

Everything went black before Jensen could ask what he was sorry for.

The power went out in one fell swoop, no flickering and no lingering backup lights. Jensen grabbed at the door, trying desperately to get on the other side before it closed, but it slipped out of his fingers to slam shut and lock tight, just like every other cell in the block. The memory of Carrold was like a physical presence at his back and Jensen pressed himself back up against the door, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to breathe past the panic.

It was standard procedure. He knew that. In the case of a power cut, all prison doors were instantly and automatically shut down tight to prevent anyone getting out; according to the Master's rules, the safety of the Wardens was secondary to the importance of keeping prisoners confined. They would open up again when the power returned, so all Jensen had to do was keep out of reach of the prisoner until the lights were back.

Fumbling for his tranq stick, Jensen kept his back against the door and his tone light as he called, "Morgan?"

His voice shook anyway, despite his attempts at bravery, and Jensen looked around, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the thin light seeping in through the window. Fear clawed its way through his chest when his mind slipped back to the last time he was in here, trapped and forgotten with Carrold's dry hands creeping over his back, and he held the tranq stick tighter as he asked again, "Morgan? Where are you?"

"Right here, Jensen."

He yelped when Jeff's voice rumbled from somewhere in front of him but before he could form any plan of action, there was a swift movement of a dark shape in the slightly less dark cell. Jensen's tranq stick was pulled from his hand and sent clattering against the far wall, and Jensen let out a muffled cry as he backed into the corner. "M-Morgan?"

"Here."

He jumped again when he realized Jeff was right in front of him. Pausing for a second, he blinked until he could make out Jeff's body in the darkness. The collar was still fixed around his neck and Jensen breathed a little easier seeing that the chain was pulled taut, meaning that Jeff couldn't get any closer.

"It's a power cut," Jensen explained, trying to cling to his position of responsibility. "They should get it fixed soon so we just need to stay away from each other until then. I-"

He trailed off when he saw Jeff shake his head.

"I'm sorry, Jensen," he repeated softly. "I didn't want this to happen to you." 

Jensen saw him reach up to the collar around his neck. He did something with his fingers that Jensen couldn't make out but his heart dropped when he heard the jangle of the chain going slack and falling to the ground.

Morgan was loose.

Swamped by memories of Carrold, Jensen abandoned what dignity he had left and screamed. "Hel-"

His plea was cut off sharply by the weight of Morgan's hand clamping over his mouth. He tried again, screaming as loud as he could, but only squeaks made it out as Morgan leaned in close and whispered, "Shhh. I'm not gonna hurt you. I just need you to be quiet for me."

Frozen in place, Jensen could only hear Carrold's cool voice whispering in his ear, promising pain and humiliation and terror. He closed his eyes, falling back on whatever he could find to keep himself calm, but trapped in the dark with another dangerous prisoner, Jensen's usual lifelines slipped away, leaving him to drown in nightmares.

"Jensen!"

Jensen opened his eyes as Morgan's hand gripped his jaw and shook him back to reality.

"Jensen," he hissed again. "C'mon, sweetheart, stay with me."

Jeff's hands were warmer than Carrold's and Jensen slowly started to focus on the face in front of him instead of the one leering at him from behind his eyelids. 

His vision had adjusted enough that he could make out Jeff's features and he met the steady darkness of his eyes as Jeff said encouragingly, "That's it. It's just me, Jensen. Whoever that guy was last time, he's gone and I'm here. I'm not going to hurt you." He hesitated and Jensen blinked. "Can you hear me?"

Jensen nodded, still feeling hollowed out by fear. 

Jeff seemed relieved at his nod but Jensen frowned at the memory of what he'd said before the lights went out. "Why were you sorry?"

"What?"

"You said you were sorry," Jensen repeated. "Before the power went out. Why were you sorry?" More of his usual sense trickled back into his fogged mind and Jensen tensed again as he voiced his realization, "You did this? You cut the power?"

"My friends did," Jeff said. He offered Jensen an apologetic smile but didn't let go of him yet. "They should be here to get me out any second."

Jensen's eyes widened. "No. No, you can't escape. I won't let you."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice." Jeff's voice was kind but authoritative and against his better judgment, Jensen could see why he was a useful leader in the Resistance. "I promised I wouldn't hurt you but I can't let you stop me either." He glanced around the cell. "We just need to sit tight until my colleagues get here, okay?"

His hands stayed in position, one holding Jensen's jaw and one against his chest to keep him pressed in place, and Jensen pulled in a shaky breath, fighting back both the rational worry that he was going to be executed for letting Jeff escape and the irrational sparks of fear that what happened with Carrold was going to happen all over again.

"Hey, hey, take it easy," Jeff said, worried, and Jensen looked up at him, only then realizing how fast and shallow his breathing had become. "Deep breaths for me, sweetheart. Come on."

Jensen obeyed, pulling in lungful after lungful until the burn in his chest eased slowly. Jeff's hand moved to his shoulder, rubbing with steady strokes, and he spoke to fill the silence while Jensen just kept breathing. "Why did they even send you back here? God, if something happened that spooked you this much, you should've been able to stay as far away from guys like him as possible, instead of coming right back into the lions' den."

Jensen shook his head. "Didn't have a choice."

"I bet," Jeff said bitterly, and Jensen smiled weakly. Having someone on his side was a nice rarity. "As soon as we bring down the Master, we'll have to give you a chance to find a new job."

Jensen almost rolled his eyes at the rebel-talk but since Jeff was one of the main things keeping him upright at this point, it seemed easier to just believe him. He leaned into him, taking comfort from the warmth of his body and reassuring himself that it was over, that Jeff wasn't Carrold. He felt drunk, like his brain wasn't working past the cloud of conflicting concerns that enveloped it, but he let the feeling sweep through his whole body, barely thinking as he pressed a light, unsteady kiss to Jeff's lips. "Thank you."

Jeff didn't push him away and Jensen kissed him again, a little harder this time when Jeff's reaction turned from confusion to instinctive participation, and again murmured out his thanks against his lips as Jeff walked them away from the wall, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He could've been thanking him for anything -- for not being Carrold, for not hurting him when he had the opportunity, for talking to him like they were friends, for being the single best thing in Jensen's life for the past couple of months -- but Jeff wasn't asking and Jensen wasn't having to choose. 

The kiss was comfort and confusion wrapped up into one, careful and slow but firm and deep as Jeff sank to a seat on the armrest of the chair and tugged Jensen in to stand between his legs. Jeff bit at Jensen's lips, not aggressive enough to spook him but hard enough to feel good, and Jensen wrapped his arms around Jeff's neck, wanting to curl up against him in the dark and never look at his life again in the light of day.

Lost in the kiss, he was taken by surprise at the sudden thump of footsteps outside the door. They broke apart in time to see the door swing open but Jensen's faint hope that it would be a Warden or a Soldier was quashed when he saw the tall, non-uniformed kid standing in the doorway with a stolen tranq stick in his hand.

Jeff moved faster than Jensen.

Before Jensen could contemplate fighting back or sending out an alert or even just running for his life, the chain behind him jangled and Jeff had the collar padlocked tight around his throat in an instant.

"No-"

"I'm sorry," Jeff said quickly, catching Jensen's wrists in his hands before he could touch the collar. "I'm so sorry, Jensen, but I can't risk you raising the alarm." 

He gave a signal to the guy in the doorway and Jensen stumbled backward as the chain retracted, dragging him back to the chair.

"No," he begged, pulling uselessly on the collar. "No, please, please don't leave me here." He sat forward as much as the collar would let him, grabbing onto Jeff's wrist in desperation. "Please, I'll go with you. You can use me as a hostage to get out of here -- I can help you!" 

It was a bad strategy -- Jeff had to know that the Soldiers would shoot a hostage as readily as an enemy -- but currently it was the only one Jensen had.

"C'mon, man," the guy called from the doorway. "We need to move."

Jeff didn't seem keen to pull away from Jensen and Jensen took advantage of the opportunity to beg one more time, losing what little composure he had left. "Please, Jeff. I'll die if I stay here. They'll execute me for letting you escape. You don't even need to keep me with you, just please help me get out of here."

"Jeff," the guy in the doorway said again, frustration seeping through, and Jensen looked up to see regret on Jeff's face.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I really am, but I can't take you, Jensen. It's dangerous enough and I don't wanna get you killed."

"They're going to kill me anyway." He was fighting a losing battle and he knew it, but he couldn't not fight. "Jeff…"

Cupping his cheek, Jeff leaned in close and met his eyes. "I'll come back for you," he whispered, too soft for the guy at the door to hear. "I won't let them kill you." He dropped a kiss on Jensen's forehead then stepped back out of his reach. "I promise."

He turned before Jensen could say anything else and headed out of the cell with the guy who'd come to rescue him. The door shut behind him, locking into place, and Jensen closed his eyes to halt the trickle of tears down his cheeks as he was left alone in the dark, collared and trapped and a failure in the eyes of the Master.

There was no way he was going to live to be rescued.

**+++**

"Feeding time, Ackles."

Jensen blinked his eyes open at the call from the doorway but the chain attached to his collar pulled taut before he could even process what had been said, let alone before he could wake up fully. He scrambled to keep up, dragging his thin blanket halfway across the cell with him and choking as the collar was pulled back to the chair too quickly for him to keep up.

When he finally made it to the seat, he looked up to see the new Warden smirking at him through the bars on his door. He didn't know what time it was -- Pellegrino enjoyed waking him up at random times in the middle of the night for his evening meal -- and his neck ached from being dragged out of bed by his collar, since waking him up first was evidently a consideration too far.

The door swung open and despite his exhaustion, Jensen tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible. At first he'd been relieved to be given a stay of execution while the Master waited to make an example of him, but as he spent day after day locked away without any form of defence or hope of rescue, Jensen was beginning to fail in his daily efforts to maintain a stoic facade.

"Hey there, traitor," Pellegrino said cheerfully. "Got your allocated portion of chicken casserole tonight." 

He held out the plate. Jensen hated that his stomach rumbled with hunger.

"Where should I put it today?" he taunted and Jensen clenched his teeth. In the past three weeks, he'd only been allowed to eat two meals which hadn't been thrown on the floor or dumped in his lap first. 

"Ah." Pellegrino smiled nastily as he stood over Jensen's only blanket. "I'll just set it down here for you."

Jensen could do nothing but watch as Pellegrino tipped the contents of the plate over the blanket, splattering his food all over the cloth he was supposed to sleep under. Satisfied, Pellegrino tossed the plate aside and leaned against the doorjamb with a knowing grin on his face. "What do you say, traitor?"

Jensen breathed out, calming himself down in the hopes of avoiding a slap across the face for having a bad attitude. However, he couldn't stop himself from smiling when he looked over at Pellegrino, who was still waiting expectantly for his thank you.

"Fuck you," he said bluntly. It felt good to finally be able to say it and even better to watch Pellegrino's mouth fall open in shock.

"What did you just say to me, Ackles?"

"I said fuck you," Jensen repeated, smiling wider now. "You sadistic, egomaniacal piece of shit."

Pellegrino's eyes narrowed as he strode forward and spat, "Guess I'm gonna have to remind you how to talk to your superiors." 

He raised his hand. Jensen cringed back instinctively but opened his eyes at the sound of a scuffle of footsteps to find Pellegrino on his knees in front of his chair with his arm twisted painfully behind his back and with Jeff keeping a tight grip on his wrist.

Despite his fluctuating anger towards Jeff over the past three weeks, Jensen was beyond glad to see him. He slumped back against the chair, smiling in relief, as Jeff addressed Pellegrino, "I think you owe Jensen here an apology, Warden."

"Fuck y-"

Pellegrino shut up the second Jeff pulled his knife from its sheath but then became instantly compliant when Jeff rested the blade against his throat. "You were saying?"

"I'm sorry," Pellegrino muttered through gritted teeth and Jeff tutted.

"D for effort." He winked at Jensen. "Do better next time." 

The punch seemed to come out of nowhere and Jensen watched with surprising satisfaction as Pellegrino collapsed sideways onto the ruined, food-covered blanket. He didn't stir again and Jensen looked up at Jeff, half-expecting him to be some kind of hallucination. "How…"

"Hey, now," Jeff said, moving in and starting to pick the lock on Jensen's collar, "a good magician never reveals his secrets."

"Magicians were outlawed nine years ago," Jensen said automatically.

Jeff chuckled. "Guess I'm a rebel with a cause after all. What would this place be if people didn't fight for their right to pull flowers out of their hats?" His smile was broad and warm as he unlocked the collar and helped Jensen to his feet, and Jensen basked in the heat of it for a moment after his weeks faced with only cold sneers.

Basking done, he landed a sharp slap to Jeff's cheek and stepped backwards, holding himself up on the chair as Jeff looked at him in shock. "What-"

"You left me," Jensen said, embracing the familiar anger, if only for a minute. "You left me in here to be executed!"

"But you weren't executed?" Jeff said hopefully. "I got here before they killed you."

"Three weeks after you promised you'd come back for me," Jensen shot back. His head ached from the lack of food and sleep and he leaned heavily against the chair as he tried to conjure up more anger. However, what came out was mostly fuelled by exhaustion and he sounded more pitiful than enraged when he said, "You left me locked up for three weeks, Jeff."

He didn't have enough fight left in him to protest when Jeff stepped up to pull him into a hug. Jensen buried his face in his shoulder, trying to let go of the past three weeks in prison and of the still-lingering fear of Carrold lunging at him from one of the shadowy corners of the cell.

"I'm sorry I left you," Jeff said, rubbing circles between Jensen's shoulder-blades, "and I'm really sorry that you had to deal with this asshole." He nudged the unconscious Pellegrino with his foot. "But it's over now. I promise."

Unable to remember the last time he'd been held like this by anyone, Jensen let himself have a few more seconds in the circle of Jeff's arms before finally pulling back. "Does that mean I can come with you? I swear I won't get you killed or put you in danger, at least not intentionally, and I can learn-"

"Jensen," Jeff interrupted, holding his shoulders. "Slow down. No-one's going anywhere."

Jensen's heart sank. For the past three weeks, the only thing that had kept him going at times was the thought of leaving with Jeff. As much as he'd fantasized about a repeat of the kiss they'd shared in the cell, that wasn't even a necessity; he just wanted out of the prison and away from the Wardens and the Master and the ghost of Carrold. 

"But-"

This time it wasn't Jeff who interrupted him. A new voice filled the cell, streaming through the announcement system that was only used on rare occasions by the Master himself.

"Good evening, citizens!" the voice said cheerfully. "Sorry to wake you in the middle of the night but we didn't think this could wait 'til morning."

Frowning, Jensen looked over at Jeff who just flashed him a grin in return as the voice continued, "As of tonight, this prison and the whole kingdom will be under new management." The speaker paused for dramatic effect and Jeff rolled his eyes. "More specifically, the new management of a democratic government. The Master's stepped down, folks." Jensen's eyes widened and the speaker continued, as though reading his mind, "Now I know that sounds scary but y'all need to keep calm and carry on while we set the wheels in motion and start getting this place fixed. It could take a while."

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Jensen stared dumbly at the announcement-speaker as Jeff sidled in to pull him in for another hug, which Jensen went with gladly. Hugs and freedom seemed like a good combination.

"Anyway, the important part for all y'all in this prison is that you should all be entitled to a fair trial at some point. Obviously if you're a douchebag criminal, the jury's just gonna toss your ass back in jail to rot but if you're innocent, the justice department will work on getting you out as soon as possible."

The guy kept talking, sounding like the tall kid who'd broken Jeff out of prison three weeks back, but Jeff leaned down to whisper over him into Jensen's ear, "I should probably point out that the waiting period doesn't apply to you. Call it one last act of illegal rebellion before I get back on the straight and narrow."

Jensen smiled, drained and sleepy but happier than he could remember being for a long while. The thought of leaving the prison for good was an amazing one, and the knowledge that he'd be walking out with Jeff at his side was almost enough to make him wonder if he was still dreaming.

"Thank you," he said honestly, meeting Jeff's eyes. "God, thank you."

Jeff winced. "Sweetheart, don't thank me. Now I'm going to feel like I'm taking advantage when I ask you out."

Jensen struggled to keep a straight face. "In that case, I take it back. No gratitude at all. I don't feel obligated to you in any way for getting me out of this place."

Jeff laughed, tracing the line of Jensen's cheekbone with his thumb. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"It's been said."

"You should work on that."

"Yes, sir," Jensen teased and Jeff's grin broadened.

"So I'm going to kiss you now," he said, lips almost touching Jensen's. "It's generally polite to warn people before you actually start kissing them."

Jensen's cheeks heated. "I'll bear that in mind."

"Please do."

"So are you going to kiss m-"

He let out a quiet, surprised noise when Jeff finally closed the gap between their lips with a kiss.

It felt different to the one in Jeff's cell three weeks ago, more grounded and real, like Jensen's mind was actually there to focus on the sensations rather than flitting between the heights of panic and terror. Jeff's touch was slow and enjoyably controlling as he tipped Jensen's head back and licked inside his mouth with strokes of his tongue that veered between teasing and satisfying, and Jensen let him take whatever he wanted, more than happy to be along for the ride.

Jensen's lips were slick when they finally broke apart and he wiped his mouth as subtly as he could. Given Jeff's fond smirk, he figured he wasn't that successful.

"Okay, I have a question for you," Jeff said, taking Jensen's hand and leading him past the downed Pellegrino and out of the cell. It was strange to be leaving and stranger still to be doing so with the knowledge that he'd be entering a different city when he left. "Now, it's a pretty big question and I'll understand if you can't answer right away. From what you've said, I don't think anyone has asked you anything like this before."

They wound their way through the hallways towards the exit, hearing cheers and shouts from the people in the city as they went. Jensen's hand stayed linked with Jeff's and they fell into a comfortable rhythm together as Jensen asked with more nerves than he wanted to show, "Don't keep me in suspense here, Morgan. What's the question?"

Jeff led him through the security checkpoint without a hitch and then came to a halt by the set of double doors leading to the outside world. The towers of the city shone beyond the doors, full of new people and new things Jensen had barely scratched the surface of, and Jeff gave his hand a squeeze as Jensen stared out at the world.

"So, sweetheart," he said, sounding genuinely curious, "what do you want to do now?"


End file.
